


just between you and me

by glitteratiglue



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Conversations, Dialogue Heavy, Episode Tag, F/M, Friendship, Light Angst, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: Three conversations over the years.
Relationships: William Riker & Deanna Troi, William Riker/Deanna Troi
Comments: 17
Kudos: 52





	just between you and me

**i.**

Deanna looks up as her door chime pings. A smile spreads over her face as she senses the familiar mind outside.

“Come in then, Will.”

“Hey,” he says. There’s a book in his hands: _Ode to Psyche,_ and she can sense he has something on his mind. “Just wanted to come see you, now we remember who we are and all that.”

“Please, sit.” She waves a hand towards the couch she’s sitting on and he joins her, shuffling along the seat so he can be closer to her. It’s so unconscious he hardly realises he does it anymore.

“You remember when you gave me this book?” Will says, his fingers tracing the cover delicately.

“I remember, Will.” They’d spent the day in bed. Will was never much for poetry, but with the foolish ardour of youth, he’d traced the words of Keats on her naked body with his fingers, as if he could remember them better by writing them on her skin. “You were so sweet.”

“Still am.” He pokes her arm gently and she drops her head onto his shoulder for a moment. “And how about that awful poem I wrote you,” he adds, and the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles at her.

“Wait.” Deanna goes to a cabinet across the room, opens a drawer and rifles through until she finds what she’s looking for: a purple box with silver embroidery set into its lid (from Lwaxana, she dimly recalls). She pulls out a sheet of paper, brittle and furled with age but still fully legible.

“Here,” she says, joining him on the couch again and passing him the poem.

Will reads it and she enjoys every moment of his reaction: his laughter and the way he cringes at the especially florid parts.

“I can’t believe you kept that, Deanna.” He carefully places it on the coffee table in front of them.

“I might need to blackmail you with it someday,” Deanna says, as seriously as she can manage, and he grins at her, bright and ever-so-slightly dirty; that grin that’s been working for him for years.

“You know, a lot of people on the ship can barely look at each right now,” Will remarks. He stretches and puts a foot up on the table.

“My schedule’s full,” Deanna says, making a face when she thinks about the many, many counseling appointments she has tomorrow.

She senses a hesitation in his thoughts and though she wouldn’t normally press him, something tells her to pursue it.

“Will,” she says, her eyes searching his face, which gives no clue to his real emotional state. His thoughts are tightly wound and he’s been a Starfleet officer too long to let them surface. “Spit it out, won’t you?”

“The whole thing with Ro Laren. I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though I was attracted to her,” — now Will looks a little pained to admit that — “you were the one I felt a connection with. I didn’t know even know myself, but I knew you, imzadi.”

What he doesn’t say is _I knew I loved you_ , but she hears it anyway, an echo in his mind she isn’t sure he realises she can hear. It’s nothing new, anyway: Will has always loved her and she has always pretended not to notice.

“It’s a good thing we didn’t act on it,” Deanna observes, keeping her face impassive.

“Yeah,” Will agrees, and his affirmation is genuine. Their close friendship is valuable enough to him that he’ll ignore his occasional longing for more. He’s not alone there.

“Did the two of you have an interesting conversation last night?” Will asks, slight insecurity in his eyes.

“If you’re asking if we compared notes about what you’re like in bed, I won’t answer that.” She reaches up to lay a hand on his cheek, the stubble of his beard rough against her palm. “Mostly, I was making sure she felt alright about it. And she’s fine.”

“Glad to hear it.” There’s nostalgia still lingering in his tone and in his thoughts, and Deanna hastily pulls her hand back.

“Honestly, I’m not surprised. Ever since she came on the ship I’ve thought there was something between the two of you.”

“Be fair, Deanna.” Will glares at her and she knows she has him pinned.

Deanna stretches, cat-like and satisfied, settling herself back against the couch. “Remember Elizabeth Shelby?”

“No way,” Will splutters, clearly caught off guard. “She was a great officer, if a bit of an upstart, but I definitely didn’t — ”

“Will,” Deanna says, eyes narrowing as she looks at him. “Every time I was around the two of you, there was a great deal of erotic energy around.” A slow grin spreads across her face and Will’s eyes widen.

“Sometimes it’s damn annoying that you’re an empath,” he says. “Maybe I should look up Shelby next time I swing by a nearby system or starbase.”

“Maybe you should. I’ll take a lemon tea, by the way,” she says, eyes shifting towards the replicator expectantly.

Will laughs and straightens up. “Milady.” He bows. “Coming right up.”

**II.**

“Program 00784 is currently running: Janaran Falls, Betazed,” the cool, metallic voice informs him. “Enter when ready.”

The holodeck doors part for him the second he steps forward. It’s bad manners to intrude on the programs of others, but Deanna hasn’t engaged the privacy lock. When she didn’t show up for their planned drink in Ten Forward, the ship's computer sent him here.

Humid tropical air wraps around him, already making his uniform feel hot and close. He follows the familiar rocky path until he rounds the bend and hears the roar of water.

Deanna is seated there on the grass in the dappled sunlight, her legs folded beneath her. The vast pool where the falls thunder down from above is just beyond her, and the sight is familiar enough that it makes his breath catch. It's been years, but he could never forget this place. Trying to get a grip on himself, Will turns back to Deanna. She's holding an engraved piece of metal in her hands and she isn’t crying right now, but her eyes are swollen when she turns them upon him.

“Why are you here, Will?”

“Why didn’t you lock me out?” It’s more confrontational than he intended, but he knows some part of her wanted him to come here, to see this.

“I don’t know,” she answers after a moment.

He joins her on the grass, keeping a safe distance from her. He gestures to the slate in her hands. “He make that for you?”

“Yes,” Deanna says, turning back to it. She traces the lines with her fingertips, reverent like she’s afraid to break it. “With a phaser.”

Will manages to smile. “He’s a much better artist than I am, that’s for sure.”

“I knew he was going to leave, you know,” she says, and her voice is shaking as she sets the slate down. “Thomas. I knew it all along. And still, I couldn’t help myself.”

Will can’t look at her; his stomach drops. The appearance of his duplicate, as strange as it was for him alone, has challenged them both to examine the comfortable, platonic connection they’ve enjoyed for so many years aboard ship. Now he sees it for what it really is. Their friendship is real enough, but beneath it are old wounds hastily patched up and buried before they’d truly healed. They might have gone their whole lives without ever having to examine it, then Thomas had shown up to rip open the stitches and leave them both bleeding.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for? You aren’t him. Or are you sorry for something else?” Her words are a challenge, threaded with anger. “I knew you’d leave, too, you know. From the first moment we met. Even when I knew I was falling in love with you.”

“Deanna, please.” Will can’t hear this — not just her words, but the hurt in her voice, like she’s being split apart. He realises how much she’s kept hidden from him over the years, just so they could be friends.

“No,” she says, her voice sharp enough to nearly make him recoil. “You can hear this. I need you to hear it. I loved you, Will. But you were so young. You didn’t realise there were things you loved more than me. But I did, from the first second I saw you in that uniform.”

“I did what I did, Deanna,” Will says slowly, as though the words are being pulled out of him. “I can’t change it. You know I’m sorry for the way it happened.”

“But not for doing it.”

His silence crushes them both, but he won't lie to her.

“I always loved it here,” Deanna says, gesturing to the nearby rushing water, the soft green beneath their feet. “Even after you left.”

He’s always treasured the memory of their last night. They’d made love right here on the cool, fragrant grass, fuelled by the knowledge it could be their last time together. He remembers the empty promises he’d pressed into her skin with his lips, his hands — at the time he’d believed every one of them —and the euphoric feeling of Deanna in his mind, something he’d never felt since but for that one lapse during their Deneb IV mission.

The idea that memory also belongs to another version of him is something Will struggles to wrap his head around. He could share Deanna with anyone, he thinks, except himself. And he couldn’t feel sorrier or more ashamed that every version of himself is destined to leave her with a heart in pieces.

He finds himself thinking about their almost-times, when the fluttering attraction that’s still between them even after all these years has threatened to boil over. Kneeling on the floor among spilled poker chips, his mouth fierce and hot on hers before she tells him they can’t. Teetering against each other at her door after too much synthehol, so close to doing something they’ll regret but never quite getting there. Losing their memory and drifting towards each other anyway, a pair of doomed insects circling a flame.

Maybe he’s had enough chances.

“What I didn’t tell you the other night,” Will begins, awkwardly. “Seeing you with him, it made me think about my choices. My mistakes. I wonder about it sometimes. Is it too late for us?”

“I don’t have an answer, Will,” Deanna says. “I just know I need to think of myself right now, the way I didn’t all those years ago. I spent far too much time thinking about you.” She doesn’t have to say _I can’t risk you hurting me again,_ but even without empathic gifts he knows it’s there, churning beneath the surface.

“If it helps, I cried myself to sleep for weeks, after,” Will offers, showing his hand in a vain attempt to make her feel better. He isn’t sure it helps; she just stares at him with soft, sympathetic eyes. There’s a tug in that space behind his ribs, the emptiness that formed all those years ago when he left her behind on Betazed.

An unhealthy, possessive impulse rises inside him: to catch her tears in his mouth and kiss her senseless until every remnant of his double is burned away, leaving only him. But that’s only his ego talking; it’s nothing they should get into tonight, for sure.

He watches Deanna’s brows knit together. She might not be reading his thoughts, but he knows she can sense their general direction.

“I still love you, imzadi,” he finds himself saying. “There might be others, but I do. That doesn’t change that. I don’t think it ever will.”

“Everything changes, Will,” Deanna says. “I know you love me, but I don’t think that’s enough. Not right now, anyway.”

“When?” The word slips out before he can catch it between his teeth.

“I honestly don’t know.” Fresh tears are spilling from her eyes.

Maybe he shouldn’t, not after what she’s just said, but he can’t bear seeing her like this. He crosses to where she's sitting, kneels and gathers her into his arms, letting her rest her head on his chest and cry. He presses his mouth to her sweet-smelling hair and when he pulls back, he touches his face and finds it’s damp with his own tears.

“Aren’t we a pair?” Deanna says, summoning up a hollow smile.

Will swipes his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“I think I should go now,” he says, very quietly. His fingers stroke down her jaw line and when she tilts her head towards his, their mouths meet in a slow, measured kiss that says the last of what they couldn’t in words.

“Yes.” Deanna nods. “I’d like to be alone for a while. Computer, activate privacy settings for this holodeck.” The computer makes a sound of acknowledgement.

Will gets to his feet, rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand. When the doors close behind him, he draws himself up straight, takes a deep breath, gathers himself.

He seriously considers going back to his quarters and wallowing, the way he really wants to, but instead, he stumbles his way to Ten Forward. Drink in hand, he catches one of the new security officers giving him the once-over from the other end of the bar. She’s lovely: dark, sharp-featured and tall. Nothing like Deanna.

Will sheds the ache inside him, letting it fall like a blanket from his shoulders as he approaches her. He slides himself onto the bar stool and allows a practised smile to slip onto his face.

“Lieutenant Abandi, isn’t it?” he says.

**iii.**

“That was her?” Will says with wonder, staring at the only holo-image that now exists of both the Troi sisters together.

“Kestra,” Deanna says, her hands wrapped around a mug of steaming valerian root tea. “Yes.”

He smiles and points at baby Deanna in her father’s arms. “Very cute. She looks like you. It’s the little blue boots, I think.”

“I always had fashion sense, it’s true,” Deanna says, meeting his eyes. Their usual playfulness is there, and she can sense genuine curiosity exuding from Will.

He truly wants to know about this — but then, he’s always been a person who truly cares about everything she is, her family and her past.

“Remember when I first met you?” he says.

At a university social, Will had asked about her father when she’d mentioned him in passing. He wasn’t her type — arrogant, posturing, brimming with ambition — but she was so surprised he wanted to know more that she took him up on it. They’d sequestered themselves in a quiet corner, talking for hours and she’d realised there was more to Will than just Starfleet. With experience and the mental demands of being an empath, Deanna has learned to guard her inner self closely, but she has never had to do that with him. From day one, Will _saw_ her and wanted to look deeper, to know what lay beneath the polished front she presented to the world.

“I remember,” she tells him, the memory bringing a smile to her face as she takes a drink of tea.

His eyes are gentle when he looks at her, and she can still see hints of that brash young officer in his countenance. Will might not be as young as he used to be — neither is she — but his face is as kind and handsome as it ever was.

“I had no idea how you’d change my life,” he admits, soft and earnest. She picks up on a hint of regret, but he seals it away so quickly she can’t be sure it was there at all. “I’m so glad you’re my friend, Deanna.”

Will rests a hand on her shoulder and pecks her on the lips, lingering for just a half-second longer than he should in his usual show of being platonic.

“Me too, Will.” She takes the picture from him and sets it on the table along with her drink, once again thinking of her mother and what it must have been like to feel such pain that you would erase memories of your own child.

“How’s Lwaxana doing?” He reaches for his own tea and sips at it slowly.

“It’ll take her some time,” Deanna says sadly. “She suppressed it for so long, it’s like the grief is still fresh and she’s having to experience it for a second time. Mr Homn assures me he’s keeping an eye on her, and we’ve been talking on subspace most nights.”

“I’m glad. Your mother needs you right now.” Will sets down the cup and reaches out to stroke her hair. The gesture is welcome and comforting and she leans into it.

“I wish so much that I’d known her,” she says after a moment. “I would have loved a sister. My mother said Kestra adored me. She used to help bathe me when I was tiny, and pick flowers in the El-Nar meadow and try to put them in my baby hair, though it wasn’t long enough.” She grins. “Apparently she used to pinch me as well when she was angry, to make me cry. My father caught her doing that once and apparently she hid in the woods behind the house for the whole afternoon. I suppose at least she wasn’t around when he died. That’s some kind of small mercy."

Will makes a sympathetic expression, but he doesn’t say anything, just keeps his fingers in her hair so she can ground herself in the touch. He’s letting her talk and she’s grateful.

“I wonder what she would have thought of you,” Deanna says, a smile playing over her face.

“Probably warned you off me, if she was any kind of big sister,” Will says, and there’s a hint of mischief in the grin that follows. “Maybe I would have chased her instead. Seems like she would have grown up to be quite the beauty, given the genes in the Troi family.”

“Will!” Deanna digs him in the side and he laughs, letting his hand drop.

“Okay, I deserved that. Kidding, I swear. But she would have been there for you, too. It must be nice to have that.”

“I had my mother, of course. But I know it’s not the same.”

“It’s not. I always wanted a brother or sister when I was little.” Will clasps his hands together, looking unsure. “I used to get so lonely when Dad would go off-planet, leave me with a neighbour. Or when he just didn’t want to talk. I had friends, of course — I’d never say I was neglected or anything. He fed me, clothed me, sent me off to school. Helped with my homework sometimes. But half the time, it didn’t feel like he was really there. Like he was a shell of what a real dad was supposed to be.”

Will has shaded into these memories before in all the years they’ve known each other, but it’s rare he talks of his father. Deanna is touched he chose to share this with her, and grateful he still keeps her close in his confidence, regardless of any other relationships in his life.

“When was the last time you were in touch?” As far as she knows, they've haven't spoken since the year Will turned down the _Aries_ , but she asks anyway.

“Years.” A shadow clouds his face. “I guess it makes me feel guilty, Deanna. You had a sister you never got the chance to know. My dad’s out there, and I keep squandering any chance I might have to make things right with him.”

She pats at his hand. “You’ll find a way, when you’re ready. That I’m sure of.”

“What would I do without you, imzadi,” Will says, and squeezes her fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> Episodes: _Conundrum, Second Chances, Dark Page _.__


End file.
